


Baby Bump

by littlemismatchedteacup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Dean, Pregnant Dean, Pregnant Sex, background Sam Winchester/Ruby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemismatchedteacup/pseuds/littlemismatchedteacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out, late-term pregnancy has its perks, especially when you're mated to 6 feet of hunky, besotted, (and, most importantly, horny) Alpha. Part 1 fluff, part 2 fluff/smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Oh, lordy me, what was that summary?)  
> Before we get started just two quick things: Nine of a Kind has not been abandoned, I started this to to work my way out of my creative funk. Secondly, this is NOT the ABO fic I mentioned a month earlier on my tumblr blog. That’s still in the rough draft process, has no connection to this fic, and may or may not have asexual!Alpha!nurse!Cas *hinthintwinkwink*.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy.

                "I gotta tell ya, Sam, there’s a perk to this whole prego business they failed to mention in those fancy Omega Mommy-to-be books you bought me,” Dean informs his brother, speaking into the little black cellphone precariously cradled between his ear and raised shoulder, hands preoccupied with stirring the wooden spoon through the gooey mix in the large plastic bowl.

                “Yeah, what’s that?” His little bother’s voice is amused where it drifts through the speaker into Dean’s ear. “Being able to stuff your usual half-ton of food down your gullet without anyone being able to call you a pig?”

                “Ha ha, fuck you,” Dean retorts easily, waddling – yes, well into his third trimester, the only way Dean gets anywhere now is by waddling – his way to the kitchen counter to add a generous helping of chocolate chips to the batter. Some part of Dean knows that if his body wasn’t being constantly pumped full with the fruity cocktail of pregnancy hormones, he would have taken greater offense to the jab. As it is, all he feels is a mild irritation, nearly swept under the rug by the outpouring of brotherly affection. Biting his lip to suppress a groan of exertion, he eases himself into the chair by the stove, placing the bowl on top of his rotund belly to take the weight off his arms. “Don’t be jealous of my extra shelf space, bitch.”

               “Nonono, trust me, jerk, I do _not_. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Ruby, she and Annie are the light of my entire word, but – and if you repeat this to her I’ll cheerfully cut your dick off – she was a complete _demon_ when she was pregnant.” Dean can hear the full-body shiver over the phone, and he smiles. Yeah, he can remember Sam’s mate’s pregnancy – Ruby had had more in common with a grizzly coming out of hibernation than a human being by the eighth month. “I think it’s a Beta thing,” Sam continues. “She’s not like you, the sweet and cuddly Omega.” The smile in Sam’s voice only makes Dean’s own grow wider in response, stretching until his cheeks hurt.

               “Damn straight I’m cute and cuddly. That’s why I ended up with the hot professor and you’re stuck with the soul-sucking succubus,” Dean says sagely, peering down into his bowl in consideration. Eventually, the determined little kick somewhere in the vicinity of his bladder settles the matter. _Pup knows best,_ he thinks, dipping a finger into the cookie batter and popping it into his mouth. He hums in approval, patting where his giant belly stretches out his Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

               “That so?” Sam asks mockingly, laughter in his voice. “Funny enough, all I seem to remember is Cas telling me a story of some twinkie Omega coming in to see him after class with these _ridiculously_ tight shorts –”

               “Cas over-exaggerates,” Dean cuts in, even as he grins at the memory.

               “Oh, I’m sure he does, being such a facetious kind of Alpha and all,” Sam replies sarcastically, the little shit.

               Dean snorts, conceding the point. Good thing Cas isn’t the bragging type, or Sam probably would also know of the almost-mating in the janitor’s closet. He’s actually considering accidently-on-purpose bringing the story up to melt Sam’s brain, perfect retaliation for the teasing, when – _Speak of the devil –_ the front door opens, and Dean’s nerdy Alpha comes home from work.

               Just like that, Dean feels something inside him unclenching, soothed by Castiel’s presence. The overhead fans turned on to combat the sweltering summer heat carry his Alpha’s scent to him, musky and potent and capable of arousing Dean even while he’s stuffing his face and wearing his fat pants.

 _AlphaMateAlphaMateAlphaMate,_ his Omega instincts scream at him, running ad infinitum through him.

 _Husband,_ Dean thinks with what is most likely a God-awfully dopey smile, glancing at the simple gold band on his left ring finger. _Cas._

               “Dean, you still there?”

               “What? Oh, yeah,” he replies quickly, turning his attention back to his brother on the phone, although he keeps an ear tuned into the shuffling of Cas’s movements in the background. “What were you saying, Sammy?"

               There’s a pause, then: “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Cas just walked in,” Sam says, his smirk obvious. Before Dean can ask, he clarifies teasingly, “You went all sweet and sappy there for a moment. And it's _Sam_.”

               “What, I can’t call my girly-haired baby brother Sammy anymore now that he’s a big bad Alpha with a mate and pup?” Dean grumps, rolling his eyes.

               “Oh, no, you can,” Sam corrects. “I just don’t want you to give me cavities from all that sugar in your voice.”

               Strong arms snake their way around Dean’s waist, right around the entire girth of his stomach, gently tightening when Dean startles. Pressing himself as close as physically possible to Dean, Castiel settles his chin on Dean’s shoulder not occupied with the phone, the bristles of his five o’clock shadow scratching pleasantly against Dean’s neck as Cas obtrusively scent-marks him. A happy little hum involuntarily slips from Dean’s throat.

               The combination of Cas’s body heat and scent are making Dean drowsy, scent-drunk, and when he tries and fails to remember what he and Sam had been talking about, he decides it’s time to call it a day. “Hey, how's about I talk to you later, Sam? Cas and I are gonna, uh . . . talk shop.”

               Sam snorts. “Sure you are . . .” He sighs. “I gotta go anyway, Ruby needs my help picking out balloons for your party."

               “Whipped. You are so _whipped_ ,” Dean sing-songs into the phone, and behind him Castiel’s silent laughter sends vibrations skittering up and down Dean’s back. “But seriously, don’t let her get those fugly pink bear ones. Get me something manly. Like, I don’t know, are there such things as stripper balloons?”

              “It’s a baby shower, Dean. Not your bachelor party,” is Sam’s tart reply. The eyeroll is audible, even over the phone. But then Sam’s voice softens, and Dean has to retrain himself from making a gagging sound. “Love you, Dean. I’ll see you at the baby shower next week.”

             “Yeah, yeah, same here, you big-haired weirdo. Should I tell all the other guests to not bother bringing gifts ‘cause yours is gonna kick ass?”

               "Of course,” Sam answers primly. “What kind of Uncle would I be if I didn’t spoil your pup? Tell Cas I said hey.”

               Dean’s just barely clicked ‘End Call’ when Cas begins nibbling sweetly up the column of Dean’s neck, his patience clearly at the end of its tether. “Mmm, something smells delicious.”

              Dean chuckles self-consciously, still feels the urge to explain his weird pregnancy habits to Cas even though they're seven months in. “Yeah, I had one of those weird craving thingies again.”

              He can feel Castiel’s smile stretch against his skin. “I was talking about you and our pup, but I suppose your food smells good too.”

              Groaning at the lame joke, Dean says, “Oh, come here, you big dope,” and, putting his bowl off to the side, turns himself around in Castiel’s arms so he can kiss his Alpha in greeting, obstructed somewhat by Dean’s extra passenger. What was meant to be a chaste pecking soon becomes a deep, hungry thing with a touch of tongue as Castiel eagerly pulls him closer, each man giving and taking from the other in tandem. “Mmm, someone missed me,” Dean teases, but only to hide how it doesn’t feel like he can breathe easy until Castiel comes back to him.

               “Yes,” Cas answers him simply, and Dean loves him for it. “Both of you,” his Alpha adds, his hand slipping between their bodies to palm at Dean’s stomach like they’re magnetically attracted. Some indefinite amount of time passes as they stand in their tiny kitchen, holding and scenting each other, but eventually they pull away long enough for Castiel to ask, low voice rumbling with good humor, “So what was my famished mate making before I so rudely interrupted?”

               “Uh . . . not sure really,” Dean replies, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sure if you slap the ingredients into google, you’ll get something. We’ve got milk, eggs, sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, skittles, those little peanut butter cups . . .”

               It’s worth making up a few ingredients just to see Castiel make that scrunched-up cat face. “Dean, I’m sorry, but that sounds disgusting. Are you quite sure the baby won’t prefer a healthier alternative?” Castiel's blue eyes turn wide and cajoling, but Dean has learned over the years how to resist his Alpha's charms. Mostly. 

               “Dude, I threw up all your kale-stuff this morning. Besides, she knows what she likes. Ain’t that right, baby girl?” He pats his protruding stomach and gets a commiserating kick in reply, and Dean grins, already looking forward to the days when he and his girl can gang up on Cas together, convince him for extra sweets and an extra hour of tv time. Oh, yeah, Dean’s totally gonna be the fun dad.

               Castiel sighs, knowing a losing battle when he sees one. “At least cook them, then,” he orders grumpily, his cocked left eyebrow _daring_ Dean to disobey him. Castiel has never once used his Alpha voice on Dean, he doesn’t need to when he has the Thousand-yard Stare of Divine Wrath, as Dean likes to call it just to have Cas roll his eyes affectionately.

               Still smiling, Dean allows Cas to help him get the cookie sheet ready, popping the cookies into the oven and setting the time for twelve minutes, Cas shooting disapproving looks at Dean the entire time. But Castiel is nothing if not devoted to Dean’s happiness (although Dean still has trouble believing anyone as amazing as Cas could want anything to do with him) so he refrains from bringing up the rabbit food again. In thanks, Dean silently hands Cas the recipe he found online earlier this afternoon, the one for the chickpea salad. He figures he can choke down his vegetables, if only to stop Cas from going gray before the pup even arrives.

               When they finish up, Castiel gently reels Dean back into the circle of his arms, delicate-fingered hands spreading the width of Dean’s rotund belly, comforting and protective. Dean moves his right hand to lace their fingers together, and they stand there for a long moment, quiet and peaceful, staring down at Dean’s belly and contemplating their impending future as parents.

              “Any day now, Cas,” Dean murmurs, his voice trembling a little at the end. Maybe from nerves, fear, some combination of the two. God, but he never thought he would get this, a doting mate, a sweet-faced pup . . . he's never had anything before that he didn't fuck up in some way.

               Castiel, of course, is positively psychic. “You’re going to be such a good father to her, Dean,” he whispers softly, rubbing his thumb across Dean’s bump. “I just know it.”

              Warmth blossoms inside Dean, and it's enough to push his doubt and worries off to the side, at least for another day. “You too, Cas.”

              “I . . . I can’t wait to meet her,” Castiel confesses.

              "M-me neeiither," Dean says, words bumping in each other on a yawn.

               “You’re tired," Cas murmurs, voice nearly a coo. His arms tighten around Dean. "You should go to bed."

              “It’s only six,” Dean protests, even as he fights to keep his eyelids from drooping.

              “Regardless, your body is working for two now, it becomes fatigued twice as quickly.” He mouths along Dean’s neck, gentle kisses, scenting as he does, until his lips reach Dean’s ear. “If you allow me to persuade you to come upstairs, little omega,” he purrs in that low timbre, and Dean just barely stops a shiver from zipping up his spine, Cas is just playing dirty now, “I’m sure we can find something to help you relax.”  

              Dean purses his lips in consideration. "Do these somethings include your knot in my ass?" he asks, because Dean has never been one to pussyfoot around when it comes to getting what he wants.

               "Perhaps," Castiel answers, with a straight face.

                Good enough. "Alright, let me set the cookies out to cool first, okay?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so fluffy I have a stomachache now.  
> (warnings for abo-typical smut. Unedited, all mistakes are mine)

               Of course, getting upstairs is a whole other story. Although he would never, _ever_ , admit as much, Dean fears that without his mate’s steadying hand fixed supportively to his lower back, Dean’s top-heavy body would topple backwards and go rolling down the steps, head over ass.

                 As it is, it still takes them at least two minutes longer than it used to for them to get Dean safely upstairs. Castiel keeps shooting Dean these little side-eyed looks the entire way up, asking Dean if he is _absolutely_ _sure_ if he wouldn’t in fact like it more if Cas just carried him up the steps. For the sake of Dean’s remaining tatters of dignity, he steadfastly declines.

                “ _Pig-headed Omega_ ,” he think he hears Castiel mutter under his breath, and, well, he ain’t wrong.

                “ _Heavy-handed Alpha_ ,” Dean mocks in a low whisper back, and it rewarded by a swift nip to that back of his neck that has him yelping in surprise. It would have declined into a tickle fight if Castiel hadn’t urged Dean up the final few steps.

                When they finally make it to the upper floor of their house (“It’s 2015!” Dean complains. “For crying out loud, why aren’t their elevators in every house yet? Or better yet, teleport mats!” “Because real-life isn’t _Star Trek_ , Dean,” Castiel reminds him gently), Dean is ready to call it a night, preferably by snuggling up with his Alpha in their gigantic, memory-foam bed. But instead of allowing Dean to toddle off to their wood-paneled bedroom, Castiel instead takes Dean by the hand, leading him down the hall to where their bathroom awaits.

                “Aw, come on, Cas,” Dean gripes. “Can’t it wait until the morning?”

               “It can,” Castiel agrees mildly, a small smile steadily growing on his face. “But I’m sure you would enjoy it more now, at the end of the day.” But when Dean continues to look dubious, Castiel turns to him, cupping Dean’s face in his hand. “Please, Dean. Indulge me.”

                Dean is powerless to argue in the face of his mate’s beseeching baby blue’s, and after a heavy sigh and accompanying eyeroll, lets Cas take him into the bathroom.

                In their early days of their matehood, back when they first bought the house, the bathroom had been fixed up with a small shower stall that had made for steamy, if tight-fitted, shower sex. But once Dean had started to show, Castiel had called in a few favors from their closest friends, and two weekends later the bathroom had been renovated, the shower stall replaced with a luxuriously large bath, only slightly smaller than a hot tub, with a step and comfortable, padded ledges, big enough for both full-grown men (and their marital activities) to fit comfortably inside and then some.

               “Cas, it’s like a thousand degrees outside! It’s too hot for a bath,” Dean complains, but his heart isn’t in the protest, not when Castiel has already slipped his hands under Dean’s t-shirt to press his fingers into the muscle of his lower back, all kinked up from having to carry the extra weight of Dean’s unborn pup.

               “Nonsense.” Cas kisses Dean’s cheek sweetly. Before, Castiel was always the more reserved one in the relationship, his touches coming hesitantly and only becoming more numerous after he was given Dean’s enthusiastic consent. Now, drunk off Dean’s pregnancy hormones, Castiel can’t seem to get enough of Dean, of his scent, of his skin.  Dean smirks to himself; no one looking outside of their relationship would ever guess that it was the Alpha who was the clingy, needy one. “Do you want me to help you with your clothes,” Cas asks as he momentarily leaves Dean’s side to start the water, “or are you okay to do it yourself?”

               “Hmm, how about you get them, I’ll pay you back next time,” Dean says sleepily into the skin of Cas’s neck. Damn if he doesn’t fall asleep before he even makes it into the water.

               With careful, gentle moments, Castiel begins divesting Dean of his clothing: socks, elastic-band jeans, boxers, and stretched t-shirt, unable to stop himself from coping another feel of Dean’s giant tummy, the sneaky bastard.

               Freed of its cloth confinements, Dean’s stomach somehow seems _larger_ in the light of the evening sun that shines through the little window, little stretch marks like lightning spread out along the skin of the southern hemisphere.

               “It looks like I swallowed a damn globe,” Dean mutters to himself, unable to stop from remembering how his stomach used to look like, how _he_ used to look like, seventh months ago. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t had the abs of a _Fight Club_ Brad Pitt or anything (a love of pies and dislike of Cas’s weekly yoga regiments will do that to a guy), but besides the bit of paunch it had been a flat enough tummy. A decent stomach, one might even go so far as to say _cute._ Add the swollen feet and the newly enlarged pecs readying themselves for milk production, and the hot bod Dean used to have seems like nothing more than a fever dream, one he’ll have to kiss goodbye forever.

               Once Cas - still dressed in his work clothes Dean notes sourly - is satisfied with the depth of the water and turns the faucet off, he beckons Dean over. “Tell me if I need to regulate the temperature.”

               Dean just barely stifles an eyeroll as he waddles over to the tub. “Alright, for real, Cas, you gotta knock it off with this hover-Alpha crap. I’m not some fragile flower, you don’t have to – _Holy flapjacks, Batman, that’s hottt!”_

Pin-wheeling backward as he clutches his foot in the other hand, Dean would have crashed into the toilet if Cas hadn’t flow into action, sidestepping around Dean so his distressed Omega landed in the safety of his open arms. Big toe still smarting, Dean blinks, looks up at his bemused Alpha.

               “Careful, Dean,” he says flatly. “The water may be hot.”

               After that Dean perches on the edge of the tub, tentatively skimming the surface of the water with his fingers and directing Cas as he mans the faucet. Eventually, they settle on the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cool, the kind of water temperature that seeps into your skin, sinks into your bones, and turns them to mush. Dean’s gotta admit, now that he’s here, a bath seems like the perfect thing. Except. . .

               Dean reaches his hand out, the wet one ‘cause even while pregnant he’s still an asshole, and grabs at Castiel’s sleeve. “Hey, um . . . you’re getting in too, right?” he asks, uncomfortably aware of how unsure his voice sounds, how _needy._

               But Castiel, he just smiles that small smile that made Dean fall in love with him so long ago. “Of course, Dean. We didn’t purchase this hydrophilic monstrosity just to leave you alone.” He leans forward so he can rest his forehead against Dean’s, curl his hand around Dean’s wrist.  “Besides,” he says, voice warmer than the water in the bath, “who if not me would make sure you didn’t drown in the tub?”

               “Oh ho, look out everyone, this Alpha comes with jokes!” Dean chuckles. He releases Cas’s wrist to bring his hand down to the water, and before Castiel can stop him Dean slaps his hand across, splashing Castiel full in the face. The startled look his bedraggled Alpha gives him, dark hair curling over his eyes, only makes Dean laugh harder, busting his gut as he curls over.

               All at once, though, Dean is yelping in alarm as suddenly he’s thrown airborne. Castiel, his face ginning in smug delight, has Dean caged in the protective embrace of his arms, strength like iron as he effortlessly carries Dean and their unborn pup.

              “ _Cas_!” Dean shouts, scandalized and wiggling futilely. “Not cool, man.”

               “What’s that, Dean? You want me to put you down?" Castiel's rumbles out calmly, expression placid save for the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Alright, then.” If they were at the local community pool and Dean wasn’t pregnant, Dean knows Castiel would have had little reluctance about throwing him into the deep end. As it is, he instead gently lowers Dean into the tepid water, keeping his back and legs supported until Dean dips down to the bottom of the tub. The tub is deep enough that the water comes up to nearly cover Dean’s belly.

               Slicking his hair back until it sticks up in wet little spikes, Dean twists around to pillow his arms on the ledge and settles his chin on his forearm, grinning up at his still-dressed Alpha. “I think it’s time for my striptease, Cas. Chop chop.”

               Cocking a single glossy black eyebrow imperiously, Castiel steps back, undoing the cuffs of his suit jacket as he does. The simple movement is simple, elegant, and predatory, and in that moment, Dean’s quiet, thoughtful, sometimes goofy mate because pure, dominating Alpha. Dean keeps their gazes locked, licks his lips as he settles in to enjoy the show.

               Hungry eyes never leaving Dean’s, Castiel starts first with his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Even though it’s not Armani or anything, Dean barely stifles a wince; between the two, he’s always been the one able to appreciate a well-fitted suit, while Cas would always be wearing his cheap Sunday best, pitiful teacher’s salary or not. Castiel then begins working on his tie, the one he can never remember to flip the right way. It soon ends up with the jacket. When Cas starts working on the white dress shirt, popping the button one after another to reveal tanned skin, the tattoo of doves on Cas’s midriff, Dean feels himself start to grow hard, and when Cas shrugs the shirt off, Dean wishes Cas would turn around so that he could see that gorgeous expanse of back muscles flex like Cas has wings. The entire time, Cas’s movements have been deliberate, methodical, sexy without trying to be. It’s certainly not any kind of striptease Dean has ever seen on the Playboy channel, but even as pregnant as he is, it never fails to get Dean half-hard, slick leaking from his hole to mix into the water.

               “Mr. Novak, I think you’re trying to seduce me,” Dean murmurs huskily, as Castiel finally rids himself of his pants and boxers, standing in front of Dean as buck-ass naked as he is.

               “That’s _Winchester_ -Novak to you,” Castiel corrects as he slips into the tub behind Dean, and Dean’s heart swells with a love that humbles him every damn day he gets to spend with this wonderful man. “And if you’re going to make reference to movies I’ve actually bothered seeing, it shouldn’t be that one. As I recall, it was _you_ who did the seducing.”

               Dean chuckles as he settles back into his alpha’s waiting arms, wiggling until he gets comfy. “Can’t believe you told Sam that story.” He lazily runs his fingers along the hairs of Castiel’s arm. “Speaking of which . . . how was work?” he asks innocently, even as something twists uneasily in his guts.

               “Hmm, it was . . . an interesting day, to say the least. One of my students took it upon herself to debate with me in front of the entire class whether or not it was ‘humane’ for me to teach trigonometry to eleventh graders. She made quite an impassioned argument; I was rather quite impressed. Of course, I was still obligated to send her to the principal’s office . . ." he adds regretfully. "She reminds me quite a lot of you, actually.”

               Dean feels like his heart missed a step and fell down the stairs. “Yeah? How so? Tiny short-shorts?”

               “Oh, no, nothing like that,” Castiel chuckles, planting a kiss into Dean’s hair. “Feisty, disrespectful of adult authority figures, that’s what I meant,” and Dean grins reluctantly, calming down a bit. “She’s disruptive in class, and I can tell she enjoys the attention the class gives her, but I’ve also seen her stand up for other kids that are bullied, and she can get good grades when she applies herself . . . From what I’ve heard, her father passed away last year – mother already dead when Krissy was three – and she’s living with her grandparents now.” Castiel absently traces patterns into the skin of Dean’s back. “She has a lot of potential, but I’m not sure how to reach out to her . . . I worry about her, Dean. I’m afraid she’s going to fall through the cracks.”

                "You should try talking to after class, see what happens," Dean says, even as he thinks,  _You're going to make such a great dad, Cas._

                "Perhaps." Castiel shifts, seemingly to come back to himself, and says sheepishly, “Apologies, Dean. I was doing this to help you relax, not unburden my troubles on you.”

               “What? No, no, Cas, I don’t mind.” He brings one of Cas’s hands to his lips, kisses each knuckles. “I like that you don’t treat me like one of those house-mate omegas who can’t be trusted with stuff ‘cause it might upset them or whatever sexist bullshit Alphas by into.”

               Cas huffs a laugh into Dean’s hair. “Lord forbid I ever dare to presume less of you, Dean.”

               They share a good laugh for a moment when Dean, bolstered by the reminder of Castiel’s trust in him, says hesitantly, “So, there’s no other young, hot, omegas you’ve got your eye on?”

               Castiel snorts. “I assure you, Dean, you have no worries there, no matter how many inappropriate notes Miss Masters leaves at my desk.” At the eyebrow Dean raises at Castiel, the Alpha grimaces, like he’s swallowed a truly foul-tasting beverage. “Don't worry. I’ve already had her switched to another class, Fergus Crowley’s, I believe.” Castiel takes Dean’s chin in hand, lands a kiss on Dean’s mouth despite the awkward angle. “Trust me, Dean, I’ve found everything I’ve ever wanted in you. And nothing is going to change that, especially not with our family about to grow.”

               Slightly mollified, Dean can't help but ask, “Even when if I stay fat after the pup’s born?”

               “Yes,” Castiel murmurs softly. “Even then, beautiful one. Even then.”  

               Conversation pitters out after that, and Dean and Cas allow themselves to relax and enjoy the water. Like clockwork, Castiel’s hand sneaks around to frame Dean’s tummy, protecting both their pup and Dean from whatever imaginary dangers may be lurking. Eyes slipping closed, Dean settles his nose in the crook of Castiel’s neck, the spot where Dean marked Cas as his one and only mate, scenting him. He can hear Cas snuffling into Dean’s hair above him, moving down to kiss his own claiming bite, right where the juncture where Dean‘s neck meets his shoulder.

               “Hey, Cas?” Dean starts eventually. “You know what’ll go great with this bath? A back massage.”

               It elicits a snickering laugh out of his mate. “Of course. Who am I to deny you, my little Omega?” Castiel murmurs softly, almost purring, the nickname an old joke between them, referring to Dean’s large size for those of his gender.

               It takes a little maneuvering, Dean scooting forward on his butt and bringing his knees (as best he can manage) to his chest, but they manage well enough. Castiel plasters himself to Dean’s back, running the line of his nose up and down Dean’s neck.

               Castiel starts slow, at Dean’s shoulders, working his deceptively-strong fingers into the sore muscles of Dean’s shoulder blades. And, _oh Gooooddd,_ does it feel good. Dean is helpless against the overwhelming urge to moan, so he does, tips his head back with his eyes shut to moan his delight into the echoing bathroom.

               “ _Cas_ . . .” Dean mewls.

               “Oh, Dean, you are so beautiful like this,” Castiel coos into the wet skin between Dean’s shoulders, pressing hot, heated kisses down Dean’s spine. “Even more stunningly radiant than the day we met, which,” Castiel chuckles, “I would have never thought possible. My perfect, kind-heart, wonderfully intelligent mate.” His hands press down harder with each declaration.

                Dean is whimpering now, little breathy sounds slipping from his lips, can’t find it in himself to tell Cas to stop with the sappiness. His hands map Dean’s body, traveling from his shoulders to the tense muscles of Dean’s back, digging in and rubbing soothingly.

               It isn’t long before something else starts poking Dean in the lower back.

               “Careful, Cas. If I remember correctly that’s how we ended up in this situation.”

               “Are you saying you don’t want this to go further?” Castiel asks, even as he grinds his erection against Dean’s ass. “It doesn’t have to, Dean. Even as my mate, you are not obligated.”

               In response, Dean twists in Castiel’s arms until he meet his Alpha face to face. With eyes half-lidded, Dean takes Castiel’s head in his hands, smoothes his thumbs down his sharp cheekbones, and huskily says, “Cas, shut the hell up,” before laying one on him.

               The mood in their sultry little bath changes like dropping a lit match on oil, scorching and hungry and frantic where it everything had been hazy and mellow only moments before. Dean ends up in Castiel’s lap, burying his finger in his Alpha’s dark hair as they lick and nip and kiss each other’s mouth, skin warm and slick.

               But Dean soon lets loose a growl of frustration; no matter how close he wiggles, his touch-hungry cock can’t quite reach Castiel’s own ruddy-headed erection, not when so large an obstacle sits comfortably in their way, unmindful that she is (however accidentally) cock-blocking her two daddies.

               “Cas, please, babe . . . I - I need you,” Dean whines, clutching harder at every bit of Cas he can reach. Slick is leaking out of Dean, his hole ready for Castiel’s knot.

               Castiel growls his frustration into Dean’s mouth, the rumble vibrating into Dean’s ribcage. Then: “Scootch back.”

               Thinking with only his little head now, Dean has no trouble instantly obeying his Alpha’s command, although his body cries out from the loss of contact. Castiel slides down the tub, just enough so he can rest his head on the padded edge of the tub, his body stretched out to nearly the entire length. His cock floats gently above his stomach, thicker than Dean’s, waiting for him.

               The corner of Dean’s mouth pulls up in a roguish smirk. “I knew I mated a smart Alpha.”

               The blue of Castiel’s eyes seem to glow with intent as he watches Dean. “Come here, Dean.”

               “No need to ask me twice.” And because Dean’s horny as all hell, because he’s never been the kind of Omega to sit there to ask and wait for it, Dean moves through the water until he hovers over Castiel’s lap, takes his Alpha’s twitching member in one hand, and takes only a moment to drag the head teasingly down his crack before he’s sinking down the length in one go.

               “Ah! _Dean_!” Castiel curses under his breath, latching onto Dean’s hips as he fights not to buck his hips, slams his cock deep into Dean’s tight, wet hole. But Dean’s had enough of being treasured and cradled like fine china; now, he wants a taste of his Alpha’s wild side.

               His pup-swollen belly resting safely on Castiel’s toned stomach, Dean has no problem in this position, able to push back into Castiel’s dick. “Come on, Cas, fuck me like you mean it.”

                Castiel’s takes Dean’s command to heart, growling deeply in his chest as he lifts Dean’s hips up, only to slam Dean back onto his thick cock.

               “Ugh, God, yes! Harder, Castiel!” Dean shouts, his fingernails biting into the meat of Cas’s shoulders.

               The use of Castiel’s full name goads Cas, as Dean knew it would, and his Alpha amps up the pace to dizzying heights, bucking his hips up so the full, fat length of his cock slides into Dean’s ass, tagging his prostate every third thrust. In the back of Dean’s end, he knows they must be making an absolute mess, water sloshing up over the side of the tub from their frantic movements. But Dean doesn’t give a single flying fuck, not _one_.

               “Dean . . . so tight.” And God, it’s so hot for Dean to be able to reduce his straight-laced, awkward mate into this snarling, ravenous Alpha, bouncing Dean on his cock like he has no other plans for the rest of the evening other than to turn Dean inside out.

               All too soon, however, Castiel’s thrusts start to drag, his know growing until it catches on Dean’s rim. Castiel’s hand slips below Dean’s belly to grasp at his cock, and dammit, but Dean wanted this to last longer. Yet it’s only takes one, two, three twisting pulls of Cas’s fist before Dean’s orgasm is shooting out of him, cum landing in the water and Cas’s upper chest as Dean slumps forward, panting for air and completely blisses out of his mind. Castiel is hot on his heels, his thrusts becoming erratic until Cas is only able to grind his huge knot inside Dean’s ass, completely tied to Dean. Dean yelps when Cas sinks his teeth in his neck, the same spot as his making mark. Arms wrapped around Dean Castiel shudders once before he’s coming, hot pulses filling Dean’s ass as Castiel groans in pleasure.   

               They clutch at each other as they come down from their respective heights, Castiel mindful to not put too much weight on Dean’s stomach, groaning when hits knot pumps out another round of cum into Dean’s body. The water has cooled down a bit, but they can probably enjoy for a few more minutes. 

               “You’re insatiable when you’re like this," Castiel observes lazily, still coming down from his high. “I should get you pregnant more often.”

               “Ugh,” Dean mumbles back, still trying to collect his brain from where it’s leaked out of his ears. “Let’s just get through this one and then I’ll get back to you on that.”

 

 

               Later that night, once Castiel’s knot has gone down and they have untied, the water drained from the tub and Castiel has toweled himself and Dean off until their hair is fluffy and dry, they stumble their way back to their bed, sleepy from the lingering hormones pumping through their systems, as well as the general exhaustion of a long day. They don’t bother bringing their clothes from the bathroom – that’s a job for another day.

               Ever since Dean started showing, he’s switched from sleeping on his stomach, faceplanted into the pillow, to sleeping on his side in deference to his fear of squishing his pup. He hasn’t said anything, but Dean knows that Castiel secretly approves of the change in position, having the perfect excuse to curl up Dean like the giant human teddy bear he is and cuddle the fuck out of Dean, nose buried in his neck as he slyly slips cold toes between Dean’s calves. But he’s always been Castiel’s personal heating blanket so that’s nothing new.

               As Dean laces his fingers with Castiel’s and tucks their interlocked hands to his belly in a protective embrace, he murmurs sleepily, “That was really . . . reaally –” He yawns wide enough that his jaw cracks. “Really something. We should totally do it again sometime. Don’t think I’ve come so hard since you mated me.”

               Dean feels the kiss Castiel presses to his mating mark all the way down to the tips of his toes. “My offer still stands. I will give you as many children as you desire, Dean. Everything I have is yours and theirs.”

               Dean just squeezes their hands together. That’s a discussion for another time.

               Before Dean drifts off, the last thing he’s aware of is Castiel whispering into his ear, “Goodnight, my beloveds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at my tumblr and we'll talk about season ten and top!Cas/bottom!Dean: I-am-mad-as-a-box-of-frogs

**Author's Note:**

> Some chapter (the smutty chapter) will be posted Monday. Sorry for the wait!


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